


Derek's Bed

by ShakeThatCocktail



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, English, Ficlet, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pack Meetings, Scent Kink, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Wolfed Out Derek, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 15:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3254663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakeThatCocktail/pseuds/ShakeThatCocktail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles are left alone in the loft after a pack meeting...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek's Bed

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored and couldn't be bothered to do my Communications and Culture homework :)
> 
> Enjoy and, as always; kudoses, comments, and bookmarks welcome xxx

When Derek goes to bed, all he can smell is Stiles. The scent of pure _him_ is all over his sheets, and seeped into his mattress. It hurts where he wakes up, when he realises that Stiles isn't really in his arms, despite the fact he can smell him so strongly around him. This is probably why Lydia gives him sharp looks when he says something snappy or acts grumpy during pack meetings. They've been fairly short recently; Beacon Hills has been unusually quiet on the supernatural front, so the pack have been taking their every opportunity to try and do normal things. Derek becomes exceedingly grumpy about this. It gives Stiles less time to rub his scent on his bed, the space he usually occupies and star-fishes out on, head sometimes hanging off the side as he watches the pack meeting go by, occasionally contributing.

Derek normally stands, leaning against one of the supporting pillars of the loft, giving him a full, unconstricted view of everyone, including the pretty brunet on his bed. He's normally able to stop his mind concocting various images in his head, like Stiles laying spread out like he was just then, but with significantly less clothing and underneath his own body. Or like Stiles' hands being handcuffed to the headboard while Derek had his wicked way with him, teasing him everywhere his mouth and hands could possibly go. A conspicuous set of claws digging into his thigh through his jeans from Erica is enough for him to pull his eyes away and focus.

But _this_ pack meeting has Derek sitting next to sprawled out Stiles on his bed, leaning back on his hands in a way he knows will make his shoulders seem broader, and he doesn’t need werewolf powers to know Stiles is staring at him. The meeting was drawing to a close, which was evident by Lydia shrugging on her jacket. It also signalled the end of the argument between Lydia and Erica about what movie they should watch the next day- The Notebook, or Kick Ass?

”Stiles, you comin’, buddy?” Scott called, fingers intertwined with Kira’s as they turned to leave the loft. Stiles sighed and sunk down further into the bed, running his arms up across the covers so his hands could slot in behind his head.

”I think I’m gonna hang here a little longer, Scotty-boy,” he said coyly, and Scott shrugged before leaving, face immediately turning goofy as soon as he looked back down at his girlfriend. Erica, Boyd, Lydia, Malia, and Isaac left quickly after them, Malia asking if anyone wanted to get pizza with her. Moments later, the loft was devoid of any noise except that of deepening breathing and a rapid human heartbeat.

”You sure you want to stay here, Stiles? I know how much Malia would like you to have pizza with her,” Derek said, raising an eyebrow down at the lounging boy. His whiskey eyes were closed, his long lashes fanning out, and a smirk twisted the corner of his plush lips.

”And I know how much you want me to stay here with you,” he replied, smirk growing wider. A low growl emanated from Derek’s chest, but it ended abruptly when a pair of plush lips crashed against his and a spindly hand curled into his hair. Derek devoured Stiles’ mouth, teeth pulling on his bottom lip and a strong arm wrapping around Stiles' thin waist, hauling him up into his lap. Derek lay back on the bed, pulling Stiles up with him and grinding up once. A single, drawn-out whine came from Stiles, and he threw his head back, the tendons in his neck standing out, and Derek’s wolf couldn’t restrain itself. He twisted them, trapping his partner with his muscular body against the mattress and burying his face into his neck, inhaling the scents of arousal, natural spice, and the caramel ice-cream Stiles had eaten before he’d arrived. Short fingernails scrabbled as they tried to get under his t-shirt, and Derek paused his assault to lean back and rip off his shirt, taking the time to rake his eyes down his prize. Stiles’ neck was red with beard burn, and his lips were swollen and red. His plaid shirt was nearly completely pushed off his shoulders, and the hem of his t-shirt had ridden up, exposing a pleasingly dark happy trail and toned stomach. But Derek’s attention was captured. “Stop staring at me and get back down here,” Stiles growled. He began to rise up, leaning on his hands, but a hard shove to the middle of his chest had him sprawling back onto the bed. There was a quick ripping sound and the sensation of five trails of fire across his chest, and he realised Derek had clawed his t-shirt open. A strangled groan was ripped from the younger’s throat as a broad tongue swiped across the hot scratches. A tapered hand wove its way into Derek’s long hair and yanked. The growl of pure animal had Stiles buck up involuntarily.

”Do that again, and this will be over all-too-quickly,” Derek rumbled into the skin next to Stiles’ pebbled nipple, lapping at it once and feeling Stiles buck up again. With that buck, a new wave of arousal and burnt sugar washed over them, and Derek couldn’t stop his claws from popping out and his eyes from flashing blue. With a snarl, Derek’s claws shredded Stiles’ red jeans and black briefs, giving him tantalising glimpses of pale flesh between the dark scraps of fabric.

”Der-D-Der-ek _please_!” Stiles whined, fingers tightening in Derek’s hair once more. Making sure to push his claws back in, Derek wiped away the fabric pieces and closed a rough hand around Stiles’ hard and flushed cock. As soon as warm skin touched warm skin, Stiles keened in pleasure and relief. The balls and base were dusted with a light coating of dark hair that stemmed from the thick happy trail beneath his belly button. A few pumps of the surprisingly-thick piece of flesh had Stiles breathing heavily through his mouth, and Derek grinned, fangs flashing. Derek hoisted himself a little higher up the bed, so he was leaning beside Stiles and his lips were to the teen’s ear.

”So responsive, aren’t you, Stiles?” he purred, and he dragged his fangs down the length of Stiles’ statuesque neck all the way down the his collarbone, where he nipped lightly. Stiles turned his head and kissed Derek again, hard, swiping his tongue along the length of the wolf’s fangs. A nip to Stiles’ bottom lip as well as the speeding up of Derek’s hand had Stiles’ scrabbling at Derek’s bare shoulders, mumbling against his lips,

”Close. S-s-so so close.”

A few more tugs, a swipe of a thumb over the slit, and one more growl, had Stiles moaning as he splattered Derek’s fist with warm cum, shaking as he was stroked through his orgasm, and his heart beating rabbit-fast. The smell of burnt sugar was replaced with salty sweat and Stiles’ natural spice, and Derek took in a deep lungful.

”Y-You didn’t cum,” Stiles said, sounding almost pitiful. Sad, maybe. Derek grinned down at his partner, and held eye contact as he brought his didn’t hand up to his mouth and licked it clean, loving the way Stiles’ eyes dilated so widely that the golden colour was nearly all gone.

”I’m sure you can help me out,” Derek replied, and he grinned even wider at Stiles’ enthusiastic hands as they scrabbled to pull his jeans down, the button and zipper being popped at some other point in time. His chuckle was cut off by his own gasp as Stiles plush mouth wrapped itself around Derek’s cock head and teased the slit with his tongue. Placing a gentle hand on the back of Stiles’ sweaty head, he helped the boy create a rhythm that soon had his chest heaving and balls tightening. “Nearly there, Stiles, nearly there. Just a little faster- nngh.” With a final growl, he unloaded into Stiles’ mouth as his long tongue traced the think vein on the underside. He pulled off before Derek was finished, and a few spurts of cum fell onto Stiles’ sharp cheekbone and another streak fell across Stiles’ mouth, and when the boy opened his mouth to take a breath, it became a string and then sunk into the boy’s mouth.

Derek was breathing heavily as he sat up, cupping Stiles’ face and rubbing the cum into his skin with his thumb, letting his scent sink into his moles and pores. The boy was looking up at him with wide eyes, and an impish grin spread across his face. Derek couldn’t help but return it.

”Let me stay after the next meeting?” Stiles asked, coyly, flicking his tongue across his bottom lip and tasting the salt explode across it. He let out a yelp of surprise as Derek turned them over and held him underneath him by pinning his wrists above his head with one hand.

Derek leaned in so close that, ass he spoke, his lips very faintly brushed against Stiles’.

”You can stay whenever.”


End file.
